


Big Bad Alpha

by SterlingAg



Series: Beacon Kingdom Series [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, M/M, Prince Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-03 10:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SterlingAg/pseuds/SterlingAg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski is the well adjusted and devoted crown prince of the Beacon Kingdom.  He takes care of his subjects and looks after his friends. He thought that his last chance at happiness had been ripped out from under him.</p><p>Derek Hale is the recently revived clan head of the Hale Clan, a group of wolf Shifters. He had been "dead" for three years while he recuperated from a mortal wound given to him by Kate Argent. His mate is a stubborn prince who has closed his heart off.</p><p>Stiles and Derek have been through a lot already. It doesn't help that Derek is busy rebuilding his pack and Stiles is overseas trying to strengthen ties with other kingdoms. Will the two be able to settle their differences? Can this bond between two people survive after so many trials?</p><p> </p><p>Sequel to Little Red Prince; Part Two of the Beacon Kingdom Series</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Moon

**Author's Note:**

> You all have waited long enough for this. I hope you enjoy! Let's get this ball rolling!!

The large room filled with books was quiet, save the sound of a quill scratching across parchment. There was only one person inside, the shadows of their face flickering from the candle flame. He paused in his work and sat back. His eyes were beginning to hurt from the strain of working so long. He had been going at it since that afternoon. Long, graceful, slender fingers reached up and carded through his dark brown hair. The few rings that he wore on his hand glinted against the light. A tired and drawn out breath escaped his slightly chapped lips. He allowed himself to slump and lay against the top of the desk. His honey brown eyes watched the candle flame dance in the darkness. Against his will, his eyelids began to close and he was soon fighting off sleep. It was a battle he did not win. Another breath left him as he relaxed in to his slumber.

The next morning, someone was shaking him awake. His eyes opened slowly and he quickly shut them. Sunlight streamed in through large, arched windows in the room. It was a change in atmosphere he was none too pleased with. He grumbled in protest and hid his face in the crook of his elbow.

“Let me sleep,” he said with a yawn. 

There was a sigh from the person attempting to rouse him.

“If you do not get up soon,” they warned, “You will miss your ship.”

At that he shot up, scattering the papers on the desk. He cursed under his breath and began to reorganize them. The person there placed a delicately manicured hand over his.

“I’ll take care of these, you just go and get ready for departure.”

He leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks Lydia,” he breathed, “What would I do without you?”

“The kingdom would completely fall apart—now hurry and go!”

He gave her a wave before rushing from the room.

Lydia sighed and shook her head, “Honestly,” she mumbled, “What an absent-minded prince.”

 

The shipyard was bounding with activity. Sailors and merchants alike were bustling about. New freight had come in from the other Continents. There were all sorts of people there. Some were from Animas, some from Beacon, others from the Eastern and Central Continents. 

“Careful with those!” Scott McCall, a stable boy at the palace instructed. He oversaw the loading of a few trunks before shaking his head. 

“Scott!” Called a voice. Scott’s face lit up and he looked over his shoulder.

“There you are! Your ship leaves in a few minutes.”

“I know, I know,” the crown prince panted as he caught his breath, “I was working last night and lost track of time.”

Scott gave him a skeptical look, “You mean to say that you fell asleep in the study while translating those old books you recently found.”

Stiles opened his mouth, but then closed it, “I guess you could call it that.”

“How long have we known each other?” Scott teased, hitting Stiles lightly on the shoulder, “I know you pretty well.”

“True, very true,” Stiles looked around, “So they have everything loaded?”

“Yessir,”

“And everything is ready for departure?”

“Yessir,” Scott answered again, “We were simply waiting on you.”

“Right, of course,” Stiles’ eyes continued to move about the crowd.

Scott frowned and placed his hand gently on Stiles’ shoulder, “Sorry, Stiles, he didn’t come.”

“What? Oh,” Stiles shrugged, “I wasn’t—I didn’t expect him to come. He’s strengthening his clan.” 

“Things will work out, I know it,” Scott gave him a reassuring squeeze before walking off to take care of something. 

Stiles let out a breath and crossed his arms over his chest. He had known Derek wouldn’t come. But, it would have been nice if he did. Stiles was going to the Eastern Continent to introduce irrigation to them. He would be away for a minimum of seven months. His return was dependent on the ability to place in the irrigation systems and the timing. If he missed the time before monsoon season, he wouldn’t be able to come back to Beacon for an added three months. Once more, his golden brown eyes roamed across the faces in the crowd. But not one had the hazel green eyes that Stiles was looking for.

Shouts alerted Stiles that his ship was departing soon. He shook himself out and turned towards the gangway. The solid ground left him as his feet stepped on to the wood of the ship. It was a black and gold filigree corsair ship. The ship’s name was _Ougon Kitsune_. She had two masts that were fore-and-aft rigged. It was one of the fastest ships that took the route Stiles would be travelling. She was sailed by some of the best hands on the entire sea. It was said that the captain of the ship offered his own daughter—the prettiest girl in the entire town—to Futsushi the god of the sea as his bride. This gave the captain favor on all the water that covered the world. In other words, it was the most ideal vessel to transport the crown prince of Beacon Kingdom.

“Glad you finally decided to show up, your highness,” said a voice as Stiles cleared the plank.

“Please,” Stiles bowed his head, “Call me Stiles. You are my superior and I do not wish to be given more respect than you.”

The man raised an eyebrow at Stiles, but smiled nonetheless, “I think you and I will get along just fine. I am Captain Ikeda.”

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Captain,” Stiles bowed once more.

“Another thing,” Captain Ikeda said, “Your father requested that you have a guide for the trip and during your stay.”

Stiles cringed, “I assure you, I do not need to be watched.”

Captain Ikeda shook his head and waved his hand, “It is no matter. Your father allowed me to use my best judgment to choose your guide. Takahiro! _Koi!”_

_“Hai!”_ Was the response from somewhere above them. Stiles blinked and looked up. The harsh morning sunlight streaked down on them. A form swooped in to the light and blocked the sun. The shape descended and came closer and closer. With a harsh thud, the object stopped moving. Stiles blinked as he looked at what had just come down from the sails. 

Before Stiles stood a man no older than he. He was wearing loose breeches made from thin, yet durable fabric that could handle scaling the rigging ropes. His feet were bare save for some wrappings on them to grab the wood of the masts. Small strands of black hair peeked out from under a handkerchief tied around his head. Drops of sweat fell and became rivulets down his face. Stiles followed the sweat as it fell down the side of his face, along his jaw, down to his neck and even further down to his chest. Which—Stiles noted—was bare. Unconsciously, Stiles licked his lips and swallowed thickly. The man raised his eyes, deep endlessly obsidian eyes. It was like looking straight in to a jewel. 

_“Sumimasen, Ouji-sama,”_ he said in the Eastern Language. He then knelt down on one knee, rather than bowing. This took Stiles by surprise. The bow was much more Western and custom of Beacon and other kingdoms on this continent. The fact that this man was willing to disregard his own customs in order to pay respects to Stiles, was most respectable. 

“I would have greeted you in proper attire,” he continued, “But not even I can get out of preparing the ship for departure. Your kingdom, while beautiful, is terribly warm.” He reached forward for Stiles’ hand and brought it to his lips so that he could kiss the ring that bore Stiles’ seal. The man then stood, keeping his head lower than Stiles. 

_“Watashi wa Ikeda Takahiro desu.”_ He smiled charmingly, his dark eyes twinkling, _“Yoroshikune—_ nice to meet you.”

Stiles nodded and returned the nod, “As to you. Please take care of me, Ikeda-san.”

The man laughed, a joyous sound, “My father is Ikeda-san,” he said gesturing towards Captain Ikeda, “Feel free to call me Takahiro.”

“No honorific?” Stiles asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No need. We’re about the same age and you’re a higher social rank than I am,” Takahiro explained.

Stiles began to reply when there was a loud whistle.

 _“Senchou!_ She’s ready for departure!” Called one of the sailors. Captain Ikeda’s face broke out in a grin.

“Pull the way lines! Drop the sails! Let’s cast off!” Captain Ikeda started to yell more instructions as he walked away. 

“Are you all right here for a moment?” Takahiro asked, pulling Stiles’ attention back to him, “One of our sailors has come down with illness so I’m doing his duties. Once we’ve left the harbor I can show you to your quarters and get you acquainted with the ship.”

“Of course,” Stiles nodded, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll just go watch us cast off.”

Takahiro smiled again before hurrying towards one of the masts. He grabbed one of the rungs on the rope ladder and began to scale the mast. He had disappeared behind one of the sails in a matter of seconds. Stiles smiled to himself and walked over to the side of the ship. The _Kitsune_ had caught wind in her sails and they were starting to pull away from the shore. 

It wouldn’t be the first time that Stiles had traveled away from home. But this was the first time he would be going alone. He put his arms on the wood of the ship and placed his head on his forearms. His eyes stared out over the crowd. Scott must have gotten distracted—he wasn’t standing at the edge waving. It wouldn’t be unbearable. Stiles was twenty-two now so he could handle himself. He wasn’t worried about the kingdom either. Lydia was there as his proxy while he was away and she was more than capable of handling things. If anything should happen, carrier pigeons had already been set up so that Beacon could get in contact with Stiles if need be.

Stiles felt his stomach drop. He had been planning this trip to the Eastern Continent for years now. He had been in contact with the Emperor of the Continent. They planned everything to the very last detail. Stiles would bring over the irrigation that his kingdom had developed in exchange for goods and support from the Eastern Continent. Stiles was dedicated to his kingdom and his people. He was doing everything he could for them. He had fully immersed himself in to his work with only the wellbeing of others on his mind. However, there had been an interesting—and supernatural—development in his life.

Four years ago, Stiles had traveled to Beacon’s neighboring kingdom to improve relations with them. He had wanted to convince Animas’ king—King Khufu at the time—to elongate the Animas market period. Stiles and his father had both gone over the numbers and believed that this would not only help Beacon, but increase trade and income for the Animas kingdom as well. On his way there, Stiles’ party was attacked by bandits in the Triton Forest that acted as a border between the kingdoms. Stiles was the only one who made it out alive, but he hadn’t made it out completely unscathed. Walcune—one of the bandit officers—had caught him with an arrow in his thigh. Stiles was able to get away from the bandits by hiding on Shifter land. 

A Shifter was one who was not entirely human or entirely of Animas blood. They were able to shapeshift in to the form of animals. Shifters were revered as monsters—they belonged to no one race and therefore were outcasts. Stiles had ended up on the land of one of the oldest Shifter bloodlines. He had escaped on to Shifter Hale’s land—the Hales were wolf shifters. The current clan head and Alpha was Derek Hale. On the surface, he was scruff and displeased at the world. He held himself with dignity and took care of his pack. After allowing Stiles to heal, Derek even volunteered to escort the prince to Animas and watch over him during his time there. At some point, without Stiles even noticing it, he started to fall for this man. The man who appeared hard on the outside but was actually sweet and gentle and a little bit of perfect. Yes, he had his own past and dark scars that still had yet to heal, but Stiles accepted all of those things. But things could never go smoothly for Stiles.

Derek had been targeted by a hunter gone rogue. She was out for his blood and looking to end the bloodline completely. To do this, the hunter had kidnapped Stiles and used him as bait to capture Derek. Derek fell in to the trap willingly in order to save Stiles. But the hunter got her revenge and stabbed Derek right through the chest with her sword. She had killed the only person Stiles had ever felt something for right in front of him. Luckily for Stiles, he was saved before the rogue hunter could kill him. But that didn’t change the fact that Derek was dead. The corpse was taken away by Derek’s three betas in his pack. Stiles had passed out from exhaustion soon afterwards.

To Stiles, that had been it. It was his final straw—Derek had been his last chance at happiness. Stiles decided that he would live only for the kingdom from that point on. So that’s what he did. For three years he worked his hardest to improve the kingdom and the quality of life for its citizens. After his twenty-first birthday, Stiles visited the Preserve which was just the renamed Shifter’s land. It served as an area for Derek’s betas to live safely and without concern of being discovered and hunted. While he was walking around, he had been surprised. There, before him once more, had been Derek. Living, breathing, and _living_ Derek Hale stood before him. It had been overwhelming and Stiles didn’t know what to believe. He and Derek really hadn’t even talked about it yet. All Stiles knew was that Derek had been mortally wounded, but his betas were able to use the help of a local Emissary to revive their Alpha. But the healing had been slow and it wasn’t even certain that it would work. So no one had told Stiles—so as not to get his hopes up. 

Stiles could barely even see the shoreline anymore. The sounds of the sailors around him had dimmed slightly. With a deep and slow inhale he let the smell of salt enter his body. He would be out at sea for about three weeks. Then he would be in the Eastern Continent. Stiles closed his eyes and felt the ship rock gentle under his feet. 

“Ouji-sama?” Takahiro called, “I can show you to your quarters now, if you would like.”

With one last look at the shore, Stiles turned to face Takahiro. He gave him a small, closed lipped smile.

“Thank you. That would be wonderful,” Stiles walked along next to Takahiro as they made their way to a set of stairs that went in to the belly of the ship.

“Takahiro,” Stiles began, “Would you happen to have some parchment and ink by any chance?”

Takahiro blinked at Stiles, “I’m sure I could find some sir. May I ask what it is you need it for?”

“I wish to write a _tegami_ to someone,” 

“Ah,” Takahiro raised his eyebrows suggestively, “A letter to a loved one perhaps?”

“Hm,” Stiles looked up at the blue sky. A few clouds drifted lazily. One of them looked like a wolf. His smile widened.

“Something like that,”


	2. Second Moon

Stiles was sick of the ocean by the third day. For the first couple of days, Stiles had stayed topside. Takahiro had accompanied him when he wasn’t working. The two got along very well. Stiles took to Takahiro like a boat to water. They conversed in the Eastern Language so Stiles could strengthen his skills to prepare for his arrival. It would be easier to communicate directly with the Emperor than by use of an interpreter. This would also increase the Emperor’s respect for Stiles.

Dinner that night had been fine. It wasn’t anything extravagant like Stiles had been served in the palace. The meals on the _Kitsune_ reminded Stiles a lot of the meals that he had with Derek and his pack. This ended up sending waves of nostalgia and longing crashing over Stiles. He remembered those weeks in Derek’s little stone cottage before they traveled to Animas. Erica’s bright and sarcastic smile, Boyd’s surprisingly gentle personality, and Isaac bristling like a cat around a dog. Even in that short amount of time he had felt like they had become a second family to him.

Thinking of family made Stiles’ stomach clench painfully. He had only been gone a few days, but he missed everyone back at the palace. Scott had been at the harbor but ultimately hadn’t seen him off. Of course, the stable boy’s mind was more than likely elsewhere. After all, he had a lovely wife back home and they were expecting their first child in the coming months. Stiles had never regretted anything more than he regretted not being able to be there for the child’s birth. Even now, sitting in his quarters on the gently rocking ship, Stiles felt as if he would curl up in to a ball.

“Don’t even worry about it, Stiles!” Scott had assured him with a hardy slap on the back, “Allison and I won’t have any problem having another one!”

“Scott!” Lydia had yelled at him. 

Allison was bright red but her smile was dazzling. She covered her mouth as she laughed and shook her head. Scott smiled—the one where his nose crinkled and his eyes shone with happiness—and wrapped his arm around her waist. His palm rested gently on her swollen belly. He nuzzled her forehead with his nose before placing a quick kiss on her lips.

“What a beautiful wife I have,” he murmured against her skin.

She beamed up at him, “And what a silly husband I have.”

Stiles stared at the blank piece of parchment before him. He sighed heavily and rose from his chair. Dragging his feet, he made it to his bed and flopped face first on to the stiff mattress. The piece smelled of salt and wood. He wanted it to smell like the earth just after a hard rain. He wanted to be back in Beacon. He wanted to be surrounded by the people who loved him. He longed to see his best friend’s first child enter this world. Stiles wanted to be back in that little stone cottage. He wanted Derek there with him and really make sure he was alive. Stiles felt a pain in his chest and he grabbed his goose feather pillow. He squeezed it so tightly to himself he was sure that it would burst at the stitching.

 

The three wolves halted in their running. Their chests were heaving and their tongues hung slightly from their mouths. The wolves were reddish brown, tan nearly blonde, and a dark grey wolf that was bigger than the other two. The tan wolf had a pack on her back in a sling that looked as if it was made especially to be worn by a wolf. Their ears twitched this way and that, attempting to catch a sound. The reddish brown wolf put its muzzle in the air and scented the air. He whuffed and shook his head slightly. Nothing. The dark grey wolf nodded slightly and moved its left forepaw to continue forward. He whimpered slightly before limping forward and eventually falling. The tan wolf turned her head quickly towards him before her shape began to uncurl and elongate.

“Derek!” She yelled, her form now human. The reddish brown wolf quickly followed her lead and went from shaking his tail to rolling his head and shoulders. Erica knelt next to the wolf and gently put her palm on his shoulder. 

“You’re running a fever,” she mumbled. Isaac moved next to her and took the pouch from where it had fallen during her shift. She nodded gratefully to him as she opened it and began to dig around for some medicinal herbs she always carried. 

Isaac turned his attention back to the wolf, “Can you shift?”

The wolf’s green eyes blazed defiantly at him and he whuffed sarcastically.

“Don’t push yourself for our sakes,” Isaac frowned.

The wolf shook his head slightly and growled before his shape slowly changed. His fur receded in to his skin. His muscles tensed and flexed as he changed back in to his human form. When he was back to skin and smooth teeth, he clutched at his stomach and doubled over.

“It’s the wound, isn’t it?” Isaac asked.

Erica shook her head, “Deaton even told us you weren’t ready just yet. Derek why—“

“I’m fine,” he growled at her. The furrow between his brows said otherwise, “Just, out of practice is all.”

Erica and Isaac shared a look. Erica produced a small leaf from her pouch and handed it to Derek. 

“Chew on this for a while,” she whispered, “It should help ease the pain.”

Derek looked at it skeptically.

“My two year-olds love them,” Erica laughed lightly, “It’s not bitter I promise.”

After flicking it between his fingers a moment, Derek put the herb in his mouth. She was right—it wasn’t bitter. He chewed on the edge of it and felt some of the inner liquid of the plant run down his throat. There was a slight cooling sensation that spread across his skin. True to her word, the pain in his abdomen began to fade slightly.

“Thanks Erica,” Derek said. She nodded and looked in the pouch. She pulled out a long tunic for herself and two pairs of loose breeches for Derek and Isaac.

Isaac moved to support Derek as they stood. Derek was able to get himself in to the pants easily enough but was spent afterwards. Isaac pulled on his own pants and quickly was beside Derek once more.

“We should head back to the Preserve,” Isaac suggested. Derek shook his head.

“I’m fine—“

“Derek,” Erica interrupted, “You need to rest. You don’t have to push yourself so hard.”

He fixed her with a glare, “I need to keep working on building the pack.”

“So you have something to show when Stiles gets back?” She offered, her voice taking a softer tone. Derek froze and his mouth pursed in to a thin line. Erica’s eyes flicked down and she brushed something off the hem of her tunic.

“You didn’t go see him off,” she mumbled.

“Neither did you,” Derek countered quickly.

“Wasn’t my place,” she shrugged and looked back up at him, “I don’t love him.”

Derek visibly flinched at this. He was quiet for a moment. The only sounds were their gentle breathing and the forest around them. 

“Derek,” Erica began again, “It’s going to be months before he comes back. We have plenty of time. You know as well as I do that he wouldn’t want you straining yourself while your health is still so unpredictable.”

“Fine,” Derek huffed out indignantly, “We’ll continue again tomorrow.”

Erica and Isaac smiled at each other.

“Can you walk on your own?” Isaac asked. Derek nodded and they began the trek back to the Preserve. Isaac and Erica were talking quietly with each other. She was talking to him about how Aeria had done something the other day. Derek tuned them out and began to think about his own future. 

Boyd and Erica already had two pups of their own. Even though they were young, they were very spirited. Both of them were Shifters as well. One girl and one boy—Aeria and James. They had been named after Erica’s father and Boyd’s sister who had gone missing. Never before had Derek seen Boyd look any more proud or happy than when he held his baby girl in his arms. Boyd would protect his family with all his strength. The entire pack would—because they were a family.

Family. Derek looked up at the canopies of trees. He had learned that the woman who had killed his family was now dead. The world was a little bit safer for Derek and his bloodline. So why wouldn’t he think of starting a family of his own? It’s true that he had family in the pack. But that wasn’t the same as having pups of his own. It was ideal to find your mate and fall in love with them. Then to build a family under the protection of the pack. Derek felt a pain in his chest. He had done two of those things. He had found his mate and fallen in love with them.  
Stiles. 

If Derek had gone to the harbor to see Stiles off he wouldn’t have been able to let him go. Nearly every day while he was healing Derek thought of Stiles. Erica was constantly in contact with the palace so she calmed Derek assuring him Stiles was safe and well. She brought news of the comings and goings in the palace and the Kingdom. But Derek wanted to see it with his own eyes.  
Derek had only been cleared to walk for a few days when he had gone to the clearing. He was remembering his father and paying respects to his ancestors. When he heard someone approaching, he had hidden himself. Who was coming this deep in to the Preserve? Why had they gone to that spot specifically? Then the person stepped in to the clearing and Derek had thought he had finally died.

It was Stiles.

The Shifter’s heart had nearly stopped then. When he spoke and Stiles turned around, it was like time stopped. For a moment, neither of them moved. Derek didn’t even think he breathed for those tense couple of second. It was like the two were trying to decide if this was real or not. His eyes tracked the movement of Stiles’ Adam’s apple bobbed while he swallowed. 

“I missed you too,” the prince had whispered. But the sound was loud and clear to Derek’s ears. Then Derek had taken a step forward before Stiles was in his arms.

“You’re real,” Stiles said as he buried his face against Derek’s chest, “You’re really real. How? I saw you. Kate—she—“

Derek shook his head and smoothed the hair that had grown longer on Stiles’ head. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured against Stiles’ hair. He held Stiles close and breathed his scent in, “It’s really me.”

They stayed in each other’s embrace for what seemed like forever, but still wasn’t long enough. When Derek moved away, Stiles’ face fell and he seemed to reach for Derek. But he pulled his hand back and let it hang at his side. Stiles took a deep, shuddering breath and looked up at Derek. His honey eyes were serious and aged and Derek was regretful that he hadn’t been at Stiles’ side as he grew and matured.

“We need to talk,” Stiles declared, “About everything,”

There were many things in that sentence. But Derek heard the hidden words in there. They needed to talk about _them_ and what roles they played in each other’s futures. Derek had never been more terrified in his entire life than in that moment.

Derek was brought back to the present when the cottage came in to view. There were peals of joyous laughter from the back yard. Boyd was there playing with the pups. They were climbing all over him and hanging off his limbs as he carried them around. His face beamed even through his playful growls. Aeria and James growled right back at him, snarling lightly before losing it and falling in to giggles. Aeria looked up and noticed them first. Her brown eyes sparkled as she jumped down to the ground.

“Momma!” She squealed as she ran towards Erica. Erica smiled and dropped to her knees to catch her daughter in a hug. Aeria laughed when Erica picked her up and twirled her in the air. James wasn’t far behind, tugging on the bottom of Erica’s tunic. The woman smiled down at him and picked him up as well. She nuzzled her pups’ noses as Boyd walked over to them. She looked up at him as he bent over slightly to place a quick kiss on her lips. 

“Welcome back,” Boyd said to her and she nodded. The kids wrapped their arms around Erica’s neck and scented against their mother. 

“Boyd, dear,” Erica began. She looked at Derek once before turning her gaze back to Boyd, “Derek’s wound started to bother him while we were out. Would you,”

Boyd nodded, “Watch the kids for a minute?” 

“Oh, I think they want to go see Uncle Isaac, don’t you kids?” Erica asked with a mischievous grin as she placed the kids back on the ground. The kids both screamed with joy and stampeded towards Isaac. His eyes widened and he tried to yell out his protests. But it just became a shout as he was tackled by two energetic Shifter children. They climbed all over him and tugged on his hair.

“Ow! Ow! Erica!” Isaac yelled. The woman just laughed.

Isaac growled and shifted in to his wolf form. The kids just became even more elated as they climbed up on to his back. He whuffed noisily and shook his head. Aeria and James squealed as Isaac began to trot around the yard. The kids shifted partially—which was normally all children their age could do—and began to make little yipping sounds. Isaac howled and they tried to imitate him. There were little howls and a big howl in the yard that bounced off the trees. At the edge of the yard, Erica joined and howled. From inside the cottage Boyd howled too, the sound escaping out from open windows. 

Derek felt a grin tugging on his lips. This was how it was supposed to be. He molded his lips in to a little circle and howled as well. His howl drowned out the others as they stopped to listen to their Alpha. Everyone was looking at him. Isaac even looked like he was grinning—smug bastard that he was. James tried out a little howl at first, testing the waters. Aeria watched him before turning her gaze back to Derek. The Alpha grinned and howled again. The two kids turned to grin at each other and then turned their faces to the sky. Their little howls joined in the chorus with their alpha and soon with the entire pack.


	3. Third Moon

Stiles had been told about storms at sea. They had the potential to be very violent, but Stiles never understood just how fearsome a seafaring storm could be. That is—until he experienced it himself. It was the second week at sea when the storm hit the _Kitsune_. 

The day had been gloomy and the entire crew seemed on edge. Stiles was reading topside, letting the wind ruffle his hair. But soon the gusts picked up and the pages of his book insisted on turning before he was ready. A frown decorating his face, he closed his book and looked around. The sailors were all doing various things—tightening the ropes, checking that things were secure, and glaring at the skyline.

“Dinner will be served early,” Takahiro said as he walked up to where Stiles was sitting. Startled, Stiles jumped slightly. Takahiro gave him a curious look.

Stiles shook his head, “You gave me a fright. You said dinner is early tonight? For what reason?”

Takahiro’s brow furrowed and his lips tightened in to a displeased frown. He looked away from Stiles to gaze out over the sea. His dark eyes seemed to lose some of their light and for once he looked aged. 

“We’re sailing in to cursed waters. There’s likely to be a storm tonight,” Takahiro turned his harsh gaze on Stiles, “I would recommend you stay in your quarters tonight, Ouji-sama.” 

“Cursed waters?” Stiles asked.

The Japanese boy sighed, a harsh exhale through his nose. He moved to stand against the railing. The water was dark and menacing below.

“This area is known as the _Umi no Shi_. It literally means _Death Sea_. No one is exactly sure when, but a curse was put on these waters. Many ships sail through here never to be seen again.”

“Then why would we sail through here if it’s so dangerous?”

“It’s faster to go through than around,” Takahiro chuckled slightly. He turned, leaning against the rail. His mouth curled up in to a sly grin and his obsidian eyes sparkled mischievously, “The weather is always fierce here with the biggest storms that the sea has ever known. But that isn’t even the most dangerous part.”

“You mean the curse?”

“ _Hai_ , here there be _bakemono_.”

Stiles’ eyes widened.

_Monsters._

“What do you mean monsters?” Stiles felt his stomach tighten and his throat constrict. He curled his hands in to nervous fists.

“Creatures only thought of in legends,” Takahiro gestured with his hand to the sea, “There are serpents out there that could swallow our ship in one gulp. There could be one swimming under us right now—its segmented body moving effortlessly through the deep ocean currents. There are some that have only ever been heard of and never seen. They are things that dwell in the darkness, far from human eyes. But those aren’t the dangerous ones.”

Stiles frowned once more, “There’s something even more dangerous than giant sea serpents?”

“Oh yes,” Takahiro nodded concisely, “The sirens.”

“Sirens?”

“Sirens are the most dangerous of all sea creatures. Not the sharks, not the poisonous fish, but the sirens.”

“What exactly is a siren?”

“No one knows where they came from. Stories say that they were created from a forbidden love. Other stories say that they were borne of the sea itself. Sirens are shapeshifters—they take the form that is most lovely to their prey. They sing songs that cause sailors to fall in love. Blinded by lust and passion, the sailors throw themselves from their ships and swim to the sirens. But they’re crushed by rocks that surround the siren’s perches.”

“That’s—“ Stiles’ mouth had gone dry. He swallowed thickly, “How awful. Is there no way to stop the enchantment?”

Takahiro shook his head, “Even we aren’t immune to their song. The crew has to tie themselves to lay lines along the ship. The ropes aren’t long enough to reach the water below but we can still move about the deck.”

“Will I be safe in my quarters?”

“You should be. I don’t think their song could get all the way there. But just to be safe, please keep your door shut and locked. You’ll be too blinded by lust to be able to operate the lock if you do happen to hear the song. Even if you do hear their song, I think that the enchantment only takes if you see the actual siren. Part of their charm is visual.”

Stiles let a shaky breath out, “All right.”

“If you wish,” Takahiro raised a suggestive eyebrow at him, “I could tie you up so that you won’t be able to escape.”

At the husky tone of his voice, Stiles felt a blush rise to his cheeks. 

“Th-That will not be necessary! I’ll be off now,” the prince stuttered as he walked past Takahiro.

“Ouji-sama!” Takahiro called after him, “Do not forget about dinner!”

Stiles gave him a dismissive wave. Takahiro watched him walk away. His lips turned up at the pink shade of the royal’s ears. An amused chuckle escaped his lips and he turned to continue his work.

 

The storm hit just after dark had fallen. Great waves crashed against the sides of the ship, throwing it this way and that. The wood groaned and complained at the attacks against it. A crack of lightning and the following boom of thunder caused Stiles to look up. The lantern on his ceiling was swinging wildly and distorted shadows were cast along the walls.

The _Kitsune_ wouldn’t sink. Stiles was at least sure of that. However, it seemed like an impossible hope at the moment. He could hear the shouts of crewmen above him and the hurried footfalls of men. Stiles looked down at the book in front of him. He had been trying to read, but he couldn’t focus on it now. Just as he closed the book, there was a loud knocking on the door.

“Who is it?” Stiles called, standing from his chair. 

“It’s me, Ouji-sama,” Takahiro’s voice came from the other side. Stiles moved to the door and undid the locks. He opened it and blinked. Takahiro was drenched from the rain, his hair straightened and dripping on to the floor.

“Sounds pretty terrible out there,” Stiles commented. His eyes trailed down and took in Takahiro. The man’s entire body was soaked. His thin tunic was now see through and Stiles could make out the lines and sculpt of his muscles. Stiles’ fingers twitched as if he wanted to touch them, trace the distinctive muscles one at a time until he had every single one memorized. 

The sound of Takahiro’s voice broke Stiles from the trance he had been in.

“We’ve all been through worse,” Takahiro said with a bright smile. Heat made its home on Stiles’ cheeks and he swallowed.

“Did you need something?” Stiles asked.

Takahiro shook his head, “I was checking to make sure you were all right—also the locks.”

“Oh,” Stiles nodded, “I’m fine.”

“You aren’t feeling sick?”

“No,”

“Hungry?”

“No,” Stiles frowned, “I’m all right.”

“You aren’t scared?”

Stiles thought for a moment. He shrugged slightly, “Only a little—simply because I’m out of my element.”

“You don’t need to be afraid,” Takahiro leaned forward, placing his forearm against the doorframe. Takahiro was slightly taller than Stiles and it forced the prince to look up.

“Takahiro?”

His eyes shone with a dark fire and it sent a shiver down Stiles’ spine, “I’ll be sure to protect you,” 

Drops fell from Takahiro’s hair on to Stiles’ skin. They left trails of cold along his feverish skin. Stiles swallowed and tried to regulate his breathing again. He hadn’t noticed they were drifting closer together until Takahiro’s hair was brushing against his forehead. His lips parted slightly and still Takahiro moved closer. Takahiro’s breath was sweet against Stiles’ face. But just before the supple organs met, Stiles snapped out of whatever trance he had been in.

He turned his head sharply away from Takahiro.

“I thank you for taking such good care of me. I should be turning in to bed now. Shouldn’t you be returning to the crew?” He asked, allowing a steely edge to his voice. But despite his strong tone, he felt a weakness in his heart. What was happening?

Takahiro blinked and also seemed to realize what he was doing. He removed his arm from the doorframe and ran it through his wet hair.

“Yes, I’ll just—I’ll be going. Remember to lock your door.”

“Because of the sirens,”

Takahiro nodded, “The sirens, yes,” He put his hands back at his sides and turned to walk down the hallway. He paused and looked back at Stiles, but then shook his head.

“Sleep well, Ouji-sama,” he said before turning the corner and ascending the stairs.

Stiles waited a moment before moving back in to his room and closing the door. He turned the deadbolt and slid the chain in to place. His hand was shaking and his body felt hot. When he reached his bed, his knees couldn’t hold up his weight any longer and he collapsed against it. The straw mattress sank under his weight and he fell backwards. His eyes scanned the ceiling and watched the shadows dance across the wood. 

He listened as his heart slowed back to a normal pace. He pulled his legs up on to the bed and clutched his pillow to his chest. It wasn’t the storm and rocking of the ship that was making him nauseas. It was something else entirely. But Stiles wasn’t exactly sure what that was. He buried his face against the pillow and tried to block out the sounds of the tempest outside. 

 

“Stiles,” whispered a voice, “Stiles.”

This roused Stiles from his slumber. The storm was still raging outside and his lamp had long since run out of oil.

“Takahiro?” Stiles mumbled drowsily, “Is that you?”

“Stiles,” came the voice again. There was something about it that was familiar and made Stiles’ heart leap.

Stiles felt his throat tighten, “Derek?”

“Stiles help me,” Derek said from the other side of the door.

“Derek, what’s wrong?” Stiles jumped up from his bed, not even stopping to grab his coat. With shaking hands he undid the chain from the door and undid the deadbolt. The hallways were dark and Stiles squinted to see. Water splashed around his feet as he moved in to the hallway.

“Derek?” Stiles rubbed at his eyes and looked up just as someone walked around the corner. They disappeared up the stairs.

“Derek!” Stiles hurried to the stairs and saw the door at the top close. He ran up the stairs, skipping stairs as he went. He had to throw his entire body weight against the door. The winds outside were so fierce and the sound so monstrous. Stiles shielded his face and squinted against the rain. He looked around. Where was the crew? No one was on deck. 

A flash of lightning lit up the surface. Under the light Stiles was able to see someone slumped against the main mast.

“Derek?” Stiles trudged against the winds. He made it to the person and knelt down. He frowned, “Takahiro?”

Takahiro looked up at Stiles’ voice. His face was pale and his eyes were wide. He looked absolutely terrified.

“I-I saw it. It’s eyes,” the man whimpered. Stiles could barely hear him.

“What are you talking about? Takahiro, Takahiro it’s me,” Stiles said, placing his hands gently on Takahiro’s shoulders. The man winced and pulled away from Stiles. 

“No! No! No!” Takahiro screeched. He covered his face with his hands and shrinking away from Stiles.

Stiles frowned, “Takahiro calm down. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s Stiles—It’s Ouji-sama.”

“O-Ouji-sama?” Takahiro slowly looked back at Stiles. It was then that Stiles realized those were tears streaming down the dark-haired male’s face and not rain. Takahiro lunged forward and clung to Stiles. It reminded Stiles of a child desperately holding on to a parent. Takahiro shook in Stiles’ hold. 

“Is it really you?”

Stiles nodded, “Of course it is. Who else would it be?”

“Si-Si-Sirens,” Takahiro whispered.

“Sirens? Oh,” Stiles swallowed. He didn’t hear anything over the wind. Was it quieter earlier? Could Takahiro have heard the Siren’s Song? But at least the man hadn’t jumped off the railing in to the rolling ocean. Stiles glanced down at the rope around Takahiro’s waist only to find it wasn’t there.

He frowned, “Takahiro, where’s your safety line?” 

Suddenly, Takahiro reached out and grabbed roughly on to Stiles. He threw the prince around, pinning him against the mast.

“Takahiro—what—“ His voice was cut off by a surprised sound as Takahiro pressed his lips against the skin of Stiles’ throat. His mouth was hot against Stiles’ wet flesh. The man’s lips lavished at Stiles’ neck and worked their way up. 

“Takahiro, stop!” Stiles gasped. He tried to break free, but Takahiro’s grip was too strong on him. Stiles closed his eyes tightly and pulled away as far as he could. 

“Stiles?”

Stiles forced his eyes open. 

“Derek?” His voice cracked, “Derek is that you?” 

Lightning flashed and Stiles took in all of Derek’s features. His mussed hair, now soaked by the rain, his sculpted cheekbones, the scruff of his beard, his non-threatening rabbit teeth. His brilliant eyes looked hurt and scared and Stiles felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. 

Stiles reached out and cupped Derek’s face in his palms. He swallowed and willed his voice to return to him.

“But how are you here?”

Derek nuzzled in to Stiles’ touch and sighed contentedly. He put his hand against Stiles’ and shook his head, “I was stowed away in the cargo hold. But I couldn’t come out—I didn’t want to get caught.”

“Oh,” Stiles exhaled and touched his forehead to Derek’s, “I wanted to see you. I missed you so badly,”

“I know. I missed you too. Every night I dreamt of you—I couldn’t get you out of my head. Not once did I ever stop thinking about you,” Derek said. He moved his hand to sit under Stiles’ chin.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to do this,” he breathed against Stiles’ lips. Then they closed the infuriatingly long centimeters between them.

Stiles felt all of the tension and worry drain from his body. The warmth and feel of Derek’s slightly chapped lips made Stiles lightheaded. His hands were hot against Stiles’ skin and the sensation was driving him crazy. A fire burned inside of him and threatened to consume him whole. The smell of Derek, the feel of Derek, the taste of him—Stiles craved all of it. Too long had he been without it and now Stiles never wanted to be without it.

They broke apart only for a moment, their breaths labored. Stiles was dizzy and weak. 

“Derek,” he whispered, “I—“

“Ouji-sama!”

Stiles looked up sharply at the sound of his name. He blinked rapidly against the onslaught of rain.

“Takahiro?”

“Ouji-sama! Get away from that!” Takahiro yelled, running towards him.

Stiles frowned and turned to look back at Derek. His blood ran cold as he was looking at a woman’s face. It had stringy, dirty hair and dark green eyes. Lightning flashes lit up the rows of sharp and serrated teeth that snarled and hissed at him.

“Siren,” Stiles inhaled sharply. Fear overtook him and he scrambled to get away. The siren screeched and grabbed on to Stiles’ ankle. He cried out but the sound was drowned out by the siren’s scream. It recoiled as a throwing knife sank in to its palm. It shirked away and moved in an unnatural fashion to the railing. Stiles looked back up and gasped.

Derek was standing on the railing. He reached out for Stiles just as a wave crashed in to the side of the ship. The spray outlined Derek’s form as the boat tipped.

“Derek!” Stiles yelled, bolting to his feet.

“Ouji-sama!”

Stiles grabbed on to Derek’s hand just as the taller man fell over the side of the ship. The tumultuous ocean raced up to meet Stiles. Everything quieted as the sea grabbed him and pulled him down in to her deep embrace.

“Ouji-sama!” Takahiro shouted from the railing. His eyes scanned the water’s surface. But even as lightning flashed overhead, he saw no sign of the royal.


	4. Fourth Moon

It was the middle of the night when a sharp pain stabbed Derek. He gasped as he woke, clutching at his stomach. His fangs elongated and he felt his eyes burn. It felt at first like a fire was spreading through his veins, coursing through him with his blood. But then the feeling shifted and it was suffocating. He clutched at his chest, at his throat, he gasped for air. Looking back on it, Derek would akin the feeling to drowning.

He let a roar escape his throat and the cottage shook around him. However, with that it seemed to break whatever enchantment that had been cast upon him. He was able to breathe once more and the pain that had been in his chest dissipated. 

“Derek?” Erica called. She knocked softly on his doorway, “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” he said with a gasp. His breath still had not quite come back to him. He took a deeper breath and tried again, “Yes,” his voice was much more solid this time.

Erica moved quietly and slowly in to Derek’s room. He raised his chin at her and she lowered her head and exposed her neck. The display of submission calmed Derek and he allowed her to enter his space. She walked over to him and knelt down beside his bed. Derek reached out and touched the back of her neck. She sighed at the gentle touch of her alpha, feeling his dominance and his power.

“Did you have a nightmare?” She asked.

Derek shook his head, “I wasn’t dreaming.”

“I heard your heartbeat increase,” she admitted.

“You were listening to my heartbeat?”

She nodded sheepishly, “I was worried about your pain from earlier.”

“You’ve really changed since having your pups,” Derek chuckled lightly, “You’ve become quite the denmaker.”

“You’re trying to change the subject,” She paused for a moment, “Are you frightened of something?”

“It felt like I was drowning,” he said slowly, tightening his grip on the back of her neck, “I couldn’t breathe.”

Erica made a small affirmative sound, “That would be terrifying. But you say you weren’t dreaming?”

“No—I wasn’t dreaming. I woke up not able to breathe.”

“Derek—“

“Momma?” Whispered a small voice from the door. Both Derek and Erica looked up and spotted Aeria and James. The two pups were huddling close together and clinging to the doorframe. 

“Ask your alpha permission to enter,” Erica instructed. The children looked at each other and then to Derek. They lowered their heads and bared their necks to Derek. He didn’t respond for a moment. But then he raised his chin and whuffed softly. 

Hearing the approval, the pups relaxed a bit and scurried in to the room. They sat on their mother’s lap, each taking one of her knees. They clung to her tunic and snuggled close to her.

“What’s wrong, little pups?” She asked, petting Aeria’s hair and rubbing soft circles on James’ hand.

“Nightmare,” James mumbled. He rubbed his eyes, sleep still making him groggy. Aeria nodded.

“Nightmare,” she repeated.

Erica tilted her head, nuzzling against James’ head, “You both had a nightmare?”

They each nodded in response. Aeria looked up at Erica, “Why you in here, Momma?”

“Did Alpha get nightmare too?” James asked.

Derek blinked. He looked at the two young children watching him carefully. He sighed gently and nodded.

“I had a nightmare.”

“Momma make Alpha nightmare go away!”

“Yeah!” Aeria nodded quickly. She clambered from her mother’s lap and scrambled up on to Derek’s bed. The man watched her curiously.

“James! James!” Aeria said, motioning wildly at her brother. He got her hint and also moved up on to Derek’s bed. The two pups then hunkered down on each side of Derek. James nuzzled against Derek’s side and Aeria hugged her tiny arms around his side.

“Momma makes nightmares go away like this!”

“Nightmares run far far away!” James added.

Derek blinked at the children now nestled in to his sides and then at Erica. She was smiling softly and looking at her pups with tender admiration. She caught Derek’s gaze and grinned at him.

“It’s how I make their nightmares go away,” she shrugged, “Sorry if they’re bothering you.”

“No,” he mumbled. His gaze turned down to look at the children now breathing softly. They had fallen asleep in the strength of their alpha’s warmth. He then looked back at Erica, “They aren’t bothering me at all.”

Erica opened her mouth to say something, but there was a knock on the doorframe. Derek and Erica looked to the doorway once more. Boyd and Isaac stood there. Isaac was leaning against the frame, his arms crossed over his chest. He raised an eyebrow quizzically at Derek.

“I didn’t know we were piling tonight.”

“It wasn’t on purpose.”

Boyd cleared his throat, “Did they have a nightmare?” He asked, directing the question at Erica. She nodded in response.

“Well,” Isaac yawned, “If you can’t beat them—join them.” He nodded his head and offered his neck. Boyd did the same. Derek nodded and let the betas enter his room. Boyd walked over to Erica. She reached out and put her hands in his. They twined their fingers between each other and smiled gently at the other. He kissed their joined hands. Then he leaned over and kissed the foreheads of the children. He paused as he leaned over Derek.

Derek chuckled slightly, “I don’t need one, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Boyd shrugged his shoulders. 

Isaac crawled on to the bed. He lay between Derek and the wall. His back was touching Derek’s legs as he curled up. Even slightly curled, his feet still dangled off the edge of the bed. He pillowed his head with his hands. Aeria twitched in her sleep and kicked slightly, her toes brushing Isaac’s curls.

Erica lay next to James. He mumbled in his sleep and cuddled closer to Derek. Erica smoothed out the boy’s hair and kissed the back of his head. She then turned and curled in to Boyd’s chest. He pillowed her head with his arm and wrapped his other around her waist. He held her close and sighed contentedly in to her hair.

The warmth of his pack surrounded Derek. He felt content and happy. It was like he had finally found a place to belong. The fears of drowning and the suffocation of darkness from earlier had completely left his mind. Now he closed his eyes and focused on the sounds of relaxed breathing all around him. It allowed his mind to drift and he was swiftly was carried in to his slumber.

_Bubbles. Darkness. The sound of water. Where was he? How did he get here? His body was weightless. But he was cold. Why was it so cold? He opened his eyes. But even with his eyes open, he wasn’t sure if he was seeing. He closed his eyes and opened them again. There was no difference. Just all enveloping darkness._

_Was he dying?_

_Is this how death went?_

_He looked to the left and then looked to the right. Just everlasting darkness. Nothing else. Only darkness. There were no shapes in the darkness. Only blanketed nothingness. He was alone and he was going to die. He couldn’t feel his limbs and he was slowly losing consciousness. But there was one word on his lips._

_No._

_Not a word._

_It was a name._

_He opened his mouth and water invaded the orifice. He choked, bubbles escaping from his lips. His empty vision faded and he let his body sink deeper._

_But still the name remained._

_Derek._


	5. Fifth Moon

_  
Darkness._

_Silence._

_Nothing._

 

Stiles opened his eyes slowly. All around him was nothingness. There was only a dark and never ending void. He sat up and looked around.

Alone.

He was scared but he couldn’t articulate his feelings. There was this overwhelming loneliness that had settled in his body. Was this death? This wasn’t anything like what the white robed holy men preached of during service. There were no large gates; no angels to usher him in. But then again, maybe Stiles didn’t get to go to Heaven. Perhaps he was now doomed to this desolate pane of existence. Did he even exist anymore?

If this was his current existence, then he would do well to embrace it. So he put one foot before the other and started walking.

Minutes.

Hours.

Days.

Stiles had no idea how long he had walked. Had he gone anywhere? Was he walking in circles? Was there anywhere even to go? Even so, fatigue didn’t plague him and he only felt the pressure as each of his footfalls landed against the ground. His footsteps made no sound. So he walked on.

He screamed.

He yelled.

He cried.

But no one ever answered back.

So he kept walking.

There was no notion of time.

No end to this place.

Stiles stopped and tipped his head back. Even above him there was nothing. The sky had no definition from the ground. Was there even a horizon? More tears fell from his eyes and the warmth of the tears on his skin confused him. Why could he feel his tears and yet he never got tired? Did he have this place for the rest of time? Just how long was eternity?

He let his head fall back down. Just as he was about to take yet another step forward, he saw something before him. It was faint—but there was definitely something in the nothingness. He swallowed hard, his throat dry with anticipation. His steps were quick and he nearly broke in to a run.

As he got closer, Stiles was able to see that yes—there was something there. But it wasn’t a something, it was a someone. They had their back to him. It was a woman. She had long, curly brown hair that cascaded down her back. She wore a light, white sundress. When Stiles was within arm’s length of her, she turned.

Stiles’ heart stopped and he felt his throat constrict.

It took a few times for his voice to work, “Mom?” 

She smiled at him, her warm brown eyes sparkling, “My ptaszek, look at how you’ve grown.”

Stiles fell to his knees, all the strength in his body disappearing instantly. He tried to think of something to say, but the only thing that came to him was tears. It was his mother before him. She was exactly as he remembered her. Her face was bright and laughter lines crinkled at the edges of her eyes. A few moles peppered her skin just as they did Stiles’. He looked so much like his mother that sometimes it was painful to look in a mirror and see her looking back at him.

“Is it really you?” He choked out.

“Of course, ptaszek,” She knelt down in front of him. Her lips turned up in to a smile, “You are such a handsome young man,” she whispered as she gently took his face in her hands. 

He laughed but it sounded more like a sob.

“What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that same question young man,” her smile turned in to a frown and her brow creased, “This is no place for you and honestly I’m a little disappointed to find you here. I was enjoying my day and suddenly I’m told my son has fallen to the In-Between. What were you thinking?”

She hit him lightly on the forehead with her palm, “Don’t you know there are people waiting for you?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You need to go back,” she whispered, touching her forehead to his. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tightly. Stiles quickly returned the embrace, his arms now long enough to wrap around her entirely. She was so frail and soft in his arms and the feel of his mother close to him made him cry even more. 

“I miss you every day,” he admitted, burrowing his face in the nape of her neck. He inhaled her scent and it was exactly as he remembered it—a comforting mix of wildflowers and summer berries.

“I know ptaszek,” she murmured, “But you can’t stay here.”

“Why not—“ his voice was cut off as he felt something pull in his chest. He gasped, clutching at his chest. There it was again a moment later, a persistent thump. It was rhythmic. Then he realized it was his own heart beating. 

The void around them began to crumble, giving way to patches of blue light.

“No!” Stiles yelled. He grabbed for his mother but she deflected his hands. She took his hands in hers and lowered them. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes and tears swam in the brown depths. 

“You can’t stay Stiles,” she said softly. Her hands shook as she brought his hands to her chest. She closed her eyes and took in a shuddering breath. When she looked back up at him, tears streamed down her cheeks.

“You’ve done so well in keeping your promise to me, my precious ptaszek—my little bird, my baby boy. Continue to grow in to a great king, Stiles,” She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

Then the ground disappeared from under him and Stiles was falling in to the light.

 

Coughs wracked his chest and shook his entire body. Water rushed from his lungs and spilled out from his lips. He coughed and gasped for air. When he opened his eyes, the world was bright and he had to blink away the dark spots at the corner of his vision. His body burned for oxygen and he breathed quickly and deeply. Dizziness replaced the nausea and he slowed his breathing.

“Ouji-sama?” A head appeared in the moonlight above him.

“Takahiro?” Stiles said which caused small coughs once more. His throat was raw from repelling the water from his lungs. He pushed himself up in to a sitting position. He blinked at Takahiro who had sat back on his heels.

The dark haired male smiled weakly, “I thought I had lost you,”

“I was dead,” Stiles whispered, “I saw my mother,” Fresh tears welled in his eyes. They spilled over on to his cheeks. Now his body was shaking from sobs as he cried. He covered his eyes with his palm but that didn’t even deter the tears. Takahiro leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Stiles. Emotionally drained, Stiles allowed himself to relax in to the embrace. 

When Stiles’ tears had been spent, he remained in Takahiro’s arms. He breathed deeply and waited for his body to stop trembling. Slowly, he found his strength and moved away from Takahiro.

“How am I still alive? What happened?”

“You followed the Siren over the edge of the ship,” Takahiro explained, “I jumped in without thinking.”

“And the Siren?”

Takahiro pushed his damp hair out of his face, “Let’s say they’re a bit more ferocious than they let on.”

That’s when Stiles noticed the warm stickiness on his front. He looked down and saw that a dark substance had coated his sleeping shirt. Frightened, he pulled his shirt up quickly to inspect the injury, but there was none. He frowned, the confusion evident on his face. But then he realized what that meant.

“You got hurt,” he said, looking up at Takahiro. Even in the moonlight, Stiles could tell that Takahiro looked a little pale. There was a bit of sweat glistening on his forehead that could have been mistaken for water. 

“It’s nothing,” Takahiro said with a small shake of his head. 

“Let me see it.”

“Ouji-sama, I swear—“

“Takahiro,” Stiles commanded, “This is not up for debate.”

Takahiro seemed uncomfortable about it. However he sighed and moved his arm. His shirt was shredded and blood stained the area around it. Stiles reached out and gently moved pulled the shirt up. Takahiro inhaled sharply when Stiles’ fingers brushed against the wound.

“Sorry,” the prince mumbled, leaning closer to look at the injury. There were three long cuts in Takahiro’s side. They weren’t too deep, but the cuts had definitely hurt. Stiles held his hand up next to them and realized that the Siren must have slashed at Takahiro.

“To the Siren—did you,” his voice trailed off and he looked up at Takahiro.

“I took care of her, Ouji-sama. She won’t be hurting you anymore.”

Stiles nodded numbly and returned his gaze to Takahiro’s side.

“Does it hurt?” Realization dawned on him, “You swam through the ocean with this—with me. Takahiro, why would you go that far?”

“You are very important, Ouji-sama,” Takahiro whispered, “You have to be protected at all costs.”

“You could have been killed!” Stiles hissed. He glared up at Takahiro. Scenes of bloodied swords and lifeless eyes danced before him. He closed his eyes tightly and swallowed hard. It was a moment before he could speak again.

“Too many people have died protecting me,” He reached up and cupped Takahiro’s face with his hand, “I’m tired of losing friends.”

“Ouji-sama,” Takahiro nodded. A small smirk lifted his lips, “I won’t die that easily—I promise.”

Stiles smiled back at him, “You better keep your promise. I don’t take kindly to those who break promises.”

“I won’t break it. This wound is not anything to worry about, Ouji-sama. I just need to rest and I’ll be prepared for anything,” Takahiro’s voice drifted off and his eyes fluttered shut. The boy fell forward and slumped against Stiles. But he was easily able to support him. After checking his vital signs and deciding that he was fine, Stiles laid Takahiro down. He piled some sand up and made a makeshift pillow. Now he turned his attention to the wound. It had stopped bleeding and it appeared mostly clean. Without fresh water, Stiles had no way of actually cleaning it or treating it. He hoped that it wouldn’t get infected. 

Stiles looked around. They were on a beach. There were trees about 25 feet from the waterline. Perhaps there were people on the island. Takahiro probably knew where they were—his family had sailed these waters for generations. For now, Stiles would let Takahiro sleep. He was pretty exhausted himself. They would need as much rest as they could. There was no telling what was ahead for them. He just hoped there were no animals on the island that would wish to make a meal out of them. So Stiles let out a breath and lay down next to Takahiro. 

The storm had cleared and now the skies were beautiful. Stars glittered in the dark blue expanse. Stiles watched the twinkling lights as he let his mind calm. His body ached and his head hurt. It had been an exhausting day. His eyes caught sight of a star as it flew across the night sky. He held his breath and made a wish. Then he kept his eyes closed and allowed sleep to take him away.

_Please let everyone be all right._


	6. Sixth Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The _Kitsune_ has been lost to them. Stiles finds himself and Takahiro washed up on shore--but where? Meanwhile in Beacon, the forests are becoming full of predators.

The dark brown Friesian horse thundered its hooves against the forest’s floor. Its rider was forward in the saddle, egging the mount faster. He yelled and pressed his heels in to the horses’ flanks. The Friesian’s nostrils were flaring as it pushed itself faster, farther. It didn’t let its panic set in—it kept its mind on running and the commands of its rider. The rider took a moment to turn and look behind him. He couldn’t hear anything past the horse’s movements and his own breaths. Anything that might have been following them was lost to the darkness of the moonless night.

Scott continued at the pace for a few more minutes. But he could already tell that the horse was rapidly tiring out. If he was indeed being chased by something as he had thought, the Friesian would need to be able to get up and go. Scott leaned back, pushing his heels into the stirrups as he pulled steadily on the reins. The horse gratefully slowed to a stop, his muscular sides expanding in heaves as he began to regain his breath. Scott reached down to give a couple quick pats to his horse’s thick corded neck. He was fond of this horse, had assisted the birth all by himself. Heat radiated from the horse’s skin and Scott’s palm came away damp with sweat. He could feel the tension in his horse and strained to see it’s ears, listening for any indication of danger. 

So as not to cause injury to the horse, Scott gave a gentle squeeze of his thighs to move in to a walk. Even if they weren’t in danger he still needed to get back to the castle. Allison was due their first child any day now. He had known this mission would be cutting it close to the due date, but it was an important courier assignment that Lydia could have only entrusted to him. Especially during Stiles’ absence, they all had to be very cautious about anything they did for the kingdom. Lydia was more than capable to handle everything but there was something running underfoot that was making her nervous. All of this heaped onto his soon-to-be parenthood was quite the weight that Scott had to carry. Feeling the anxiety seep in to his bones, Scott shook his head and picked up a jog. His Friesian let out a small huff but had mostly cooled down from the earlier mad dash. 

Making way once more towards the kingdom’s walls, Scott allowed his mind to wander in the direction of his child. They didn’t know if it was going to be a boy or girl and honestly Scott didn’t care. It would be nice to have a boy to carry on the McCall name but he would also love to see Allison teaching swords to their little girl. He wondered who the child would look more like. Hopefully they would have their mother’s brown hair that was as rich as the soil in spring. He thought of children with Allison’s button nose and couldn’t help the grin that broke his face. They hadn’t decided on a name yet although Scott knew whatever Allison named their child it would be beautiful and perfect. Scott was both nervous and excited to be a father. His own father had never really been in his life, leaving when Scott had not yet entered manhood. King Stilinski and Deaton had been the closest things to father figures Scott had ever known. He wanted to be the best father he could be. Scott was going to be there for his child, boy or girl, and do everything within his power to do it.

Caught in his reverie Scott wasn’t paying attention to the environment around him. Even without the stars to guide him, he knew the way back to the kingdom. He had traveled this route many times with this mount. There was a falter in the Friesian’s step and Scott was brought back to the moment. Scott looked around, trying to see what had caused it. There weren’t any loose rocks or tree roots to trip the horse in this area. Perhaps a bush rat had passed by and startled the horse. But Scott had never known this horse to be particularly frightful. He moved his heel back on the horse’s flank and pressed, leaning forward and clicking his tongue to ask for a canter. The horse stalled, shaking his head against the reins. Scott frowned and asked again this time giving a bit of a kick with his other leg. A louder protest came from the Friesian and he bucked before rearing onto his hind legs. Scott adjusted to this and leaned forward to nearly hug the horse’s body with his abdomen to keep from falling off. Even after grounding itself, the horse was jittery and did a half turn. Scott could feel his brow furrowing. Just what was spooking his horse?

He was so close to the kingdom at this point, he considered just walking and leading the horse back. It would take him four hours rather than the two it would have by horseback. But there was nothing he could do—his horse simply would not move. Scott dropped his left stirrup and swung his leg over the horse. He held himself up in order to pull his other foot from the stirrup. As he did so, he heard the sound that made his blood run cold. It sounded like thunder rumbling but deeper and more resounding. His horse stomped its feet and Scott started to swing his leg back over the saddle. He wasn’t fast enough. 

From the darkness the shadows moved. Like liquid black a hulking mass came at Scott. It moved with speed unheard of from any creature in the forest. Before Scott could give his horse the command to move, he was knocked from his mount. Fearing for its life, the Friesian kicked clumps of mud up as it ran as fast as it could from there. Scott hit the ground hard and yelled with the familiar pain of a broken arm. He cursed and tried to get his bearings. The dark night was disorienting and Scott couldn’t see a thing. His attacker was not relenting, circling Scott just out of his range of vision. It would come towards Scott for a moment before retreating back to stalking its prey. Scott reached for the short dagger on his belt. His good arm had taken most of the damage from the fall and he wouldn’t be able to get much strength in a blow from it.

After a few more minutes of teasing, Scott could make out the basic shape of the thing that had attacked him. It was absolutely massive, larger than anything he had ever seen before. At first he had thought it was a bear based on the size of it. But a bear wouldn’t have been able to move so swiftly. The way that it moved around Scott made him realize it was dog-like. A wolf maybe? Although there hadn’t been any kind of wolf that size since the Ages of Giants. Was it an ancient monster come to collect some debt left unpaid? Or had it simply woken from its slumber and now had to satiate its hunger with Scott as the closest and most unfortunate meal? Scott felt his left hand trembling as the circles of the beast got smaller and smaller. He would probably only have once chance so he would have to make it count. The beast stopped right in front of him, showing his full size evident even in the night. Scott braced himself and gripped the dagger tightly, turning the blade broadside towards the creature. For a second, Scott would swear the thing grinned at him, flashing sharp dangerous teeth. Then it snarled and threw itself at Scott. The man yelled and thrust his dagger forward, feeling the blade make a mark as resistance pushed against his wrist. The timbre of his note changed as the burning pain of flesh being ripped filled his mind.

—X—

Stiles blinked his eyes open. The sounds of the surf gently lapping at the beach met his ears. It was accompanied by the occasional cry of gulls overhead. He rubbed his eyes, careful not to get any grains of sand in the sensitive organs. The sun was about a quarter of the way in to the sky. But since Stiles didn’t know where they were, he couldn’t accurately tell what time it was. With a small sigh he pushed himself up onto his elbows. A dull ache settled in the muscles of his back and he decided a sand bed was no suitable substitute for a feather-stuffed mattress. He rolled his head on his shoulders to try and loosen the stiffness in his neck. From the bottom of his stomach, Stiles was beginning to experience a feeling he wasn’t too used to—hunger. 

“Takahiro,” Stiles began, “Do you know how to fish or gather by any chance?”

When there was no response, Stiles frowned and turned his head towards the dark-haired male. Takahiro was still sleeping. His eyes were moving rapidly behind his eyelids. The normally sun-kissed skin was pale and ashen.

“Takahiro?” Stiles tried again. Still the man in question did not stir. Stiles reached out to wake him, but when his palm made contact with Takahiro’s skin he pulled away quickly.

“You’ve got a fever!” Stiles hissed. He looked around and realized that he was absolutely on his own. But now was definitely not the time to panic. If Stiles didn’t do something soon, Takahiro may take a turn for the worst. So he took a deep breath and cleared his mind. The first thing he needed to do was get Takahiro out of the sun and then find fresh water to rehydrate his body from the fever.

Stiles ignored the aches and protests of his body as he attempted to move Takahiro to the shade of the tree line. He tried to lift Takahiro and carry him, but the boy was more heavy muscle than he looked. At one point Stiles was able to get Takahiro half standing and drag him towards the shade. But the start-stop motion pulled at the wound on Takahiro’s side. He whimpered his discomfort and Stiles carefully sat down on the beach, supporting Takahiro’s body. As Stiles was trying to figure out how to get the last little bit to the tree line, he noticed Takahiro was mumbling in his sleep. Frowning, Stiles leaned down to hear him better. He realized Takahiro was speaking in the Eastern Language. Not only that—he was just repeating the phrase for “I’m sorry” over and over again. Stiles wrapped his arms around Takahiro’s shoulders and pulled him close. He murmured small reassurances against Takahiro’s matting hair.

“It’s going to be all right,” Stiles said softly. He continued to soothe Takahiro until he sank back in to his fevered sleep. Honestly Stiles wasn’t sure who he was convincing more—Takahiro or himself. As he was planning his next move, his ears picked up on the rustling of leaves. His stomach dropped and his throat tightened. He turned his head slowly towards the sound, eyes falling on the movement in the tree line just a little ways away. He moved his body to shield Takahiro.

“Who’s there?” Stiles called, his voice holding more bravery than he felt. He swallowed hard when he realized whatever was coming towards them wasn’t necessarily a “who.” He stamped down his panic as the foliage in front of him parted.

—X—

Aeria ran screaming into the cottage and threw herself at her mother. Erica dropped down and wrapped her arms around her pup, instantly shielding the child.

“Aeria what’s wrong?” Erica asked hurriedly. The mother brushed her daughter’s slightly coarse dark brown hair. It was similar to her father’s hair but still maintained much of her mother’s softness. It would be good in the winter when she was fully shifted. The toddler pressed her face against her mother’s legs.

“Big thing outside,” she whimpered, “I almost get stepped on!”

Erica frowned and looked up at Isaac who had come from the other room at the commotion. He nodded while moving to the doorway. He cracked his knuckles and elongated his fingernails before leaving the building. Erica continued to calm Aeria while they waited for Isaac to return. It was just the three of them in the cottage at the time. Derek and Boyd had taken James to teach him how to track and hunt small game. They had been gone for quite some time, but there was no way to be sure when they might come back. 

Erica heard Isaac before she saw him. He ran back into the cottage, his breath coming in harsh bursts.

“It’s a horse from Beacon,” he explained, “There’s no rider.” He turned to leave once more, expecting Erica to follow to investigate. She picked Aeria up, her small arms wrapping tightly around Erica’s neck.

Once outside of the cottage, Erica could see Isaac was trying to calm the horse. The large, powerful dark brown stead was antsy. Isaac placed his palm on the horse’s muzzle and quieted the beast. It huffed at Isaac, flaring its nostrils to catch his scent.

“I feel like I’ve seen this horse before,” Isaac murmured. Erica moved around the mount. She saw the Beacon Kingdom insignia emblazoned on the skirt of the saddle. If they were lucky, they would be able to identify the owner by either a brand on the horse or a family crest somewhere on the tack. She checked on the saddle and didn’t find a crest on the pommel or the gullet, where sometimes the more modest nobles put their crests. When she started to look over the bridle, her eyes widened.

“Mommy?” Aeria whispered, feeling the change in her mother’s attitude. 

“Isaac,” Erica let her fingers rest on a piece on the bridle. She turned to look at the curly haired male, “It’s Scott’s.” 

His head whipped up to return her gaze, “How can that—“ 

“Erica! Isaac!” Boomed Derek’s voice from the edge of the forest. The two adults reacted immediately to their alpha’s call. They watched as the hunting party came through the foliage but with an unusual quarry. James scurried in front of the two males and threw himself against his mother’s leg. She reached down to settle her hand in his hair. 

“Derek?” Isaac called.

“Get a bed ready and gather the ointments,” Derek commanded in a gruff voice. A slight growl had crept into his inflection. Boyd moved smoothly across the landscape, a person in his arms. Any of Derek’s pack could have recognized that dark head of hair anywhere. Scott McCall was an important liaison between the Forest Guard and Beacon. He frequently worked with the pack on patrols and through that become very close with them. It was impossible not to love Scott. He was hard working, sincere, and honest—all qualities that were extremely admirable for the pack. It didn’t matter that he was Stiles’ best friend, they liked Scott for who he was.

They got Scott in one of the spare beds in the cottage. He had a fever and had lost a lot of blood. But something else seemed wrong. 

“Derek,” Erica began as she handed Boyd a jar with salve in it, “He doesn’t smell right.”

Derek looked up from where he was cleaning a wound on his leg. It looked like it had caught on something when he was moving quickly.

“What do you mean?” There was a bit of hesitancy in Derek’s eyes. He must have noticed it too.

“It’s like,” she paused and swallowed, allowing the scent to lay heavy on her tongue, “Wolf.”

It looked like Derek was going to be ill, “That’s what I thought.”

“Could this have been—“

“I don’t know about any other packs in the area. Let alone an alpha.”

“But if it was,” Erica’s words trailed off.

He turned his hazel green eyes on her. They shared a worried look. Even Boyd had paused in what he was doing. They were both looking towards their alpha. Derek let out a breath.

“Then we have a problem.”


End file.
